


Not This Time

by deandoesthingstome



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drinking, F/M, Oral Sex, References to Supernatural (TV), Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 11:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6004015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deandoesthingstome/pseuds/deandoesthingstome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loving Dean usually means waiting around. I wondered what if might be like to feel like you couldn’t wait around anymore. Inspired by 'Bulletproof' by La Roux</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not This Time

A convincing full belly laugh escaped your lips as you responded to the cliché’d joke your target for the night had just finished telling. Wiping the tears from your eyes, you looked up to find out who was entering the bar and letting all the drafty, cold air in. Your heart stopped briefly as you met the charming green eyes you’d promised yourself you’d never look at again.

You hunted werewolves only. Maybe a vamp or two every now and then. And a witch if she showed up in town. But you left the more sinister monsters to the true professionals and you never traveled outside the state for a hunt.

Garth and Bobby were helpful when you got stuck on a case, always ready with some lore or information over the phone. And once, when it was bad, they sent in reinforcements. You hadn’t known how long it would take for these “Winchesters” to show, and so of course you had blindly run head first into a shit storm, thinking you needed to clear out the nest before it did any more damage in town.

Things went sideways and you were eternally grateful when Sam and Dean swept in to clean up your mess. You remembered vaguely promising never to take on such a large hunt alone again, but who knows what you really said when the whole time you were drowning in the deep green pools of Dean’s eyes and responding favorably when he hinted at a way you could thank them. Or really just him.

It had been one of the best nights of your life, all hot kisses and searing touches and hands clutching and tongues tangling. Dean knew how to void every inhibition you ever had and you found yourself climbing the wall of your attic apartment while he nibbled and sucked at your aching pussy above him, arms wrapped around the back of your thighs to hold you steady when you tried to raise yourself away from his tongue, since he didn’t seem content to leave off after your first orgasm.

He teased you right on through that first and into your second before he pulled you down the length of his muscular frame and settled your legs wide around his hips, pulling your neck down to kiss you, letting you taste all the juice he’d coaxed from you. You knew you ought to ask about condoms, it was the responsible thing to do and you were usually so responsible. Sensibility had left the building when Dean arrived, however, and after a few more moments of passionate kisses and fingers tracing your spine you raised your hips and ran your hand down his stomach to catch his hard cock and guide him smoothly into your wet core.

Dean bucked wildly up into you once you’d seated yourself fully down his length. He kept you bent over him so the angle would allow him to nudge the sensitive bundle of nerves no one really ever took the time to care about before and you were completely done for. Head over heels. Follow him anywhere.

Only he hadn’t allowed that. His was a nomadic existence and not suitable for relationships and he wouldn’t allow you to give up your relatively safe life to go gallivanting around the countryside with him since he could in no way guarantee your safety. Could barely keep himself and Sam safe.

You settled for a call every now and then when they were close and a weekend here or there but every time you wanted more. And every time, even though he _knew_ you weren’t letting go of the fantasy, he came back around and treated you as well as he could, fucked you senseless, then left you aching.

Until finally you were done. You stopped answering his calls, changed numbers, made sure your lights were out when he knocked, laid low if he was in town for more than a few hours. And he’d finally gotten the hint. Or so you had hoped.

* * *

“Y/N? Thought you left town months ago, sweetheart. You back?” Dean’s grin was infectious and if you didn’t feel so low, you’d be smiling right back, maybe even jumping into his arms.

The heat rose in your face and you felt like a complete shit since you never really told him why you couldn’t see him anymore. It wasn’t any of the nameless schmucks to grace your bed since you’d made the decision to cut Dean Winchester out of your life. It was only that the longer he kept you dangling, no matter how much he believed he was always completely upfront with you and had never made promises he couldn’t keep, the deeper you fell and the more of yourself you lost.

You’d made a choice to step away, but you never explained that choice to him and here he was thinking his guaranteed booty call was back. You saw it in his eyes. Those winking, mesmerizing orbs surrounded by the crinkle of his charming smirk, lips puckered as he contemplated how to insert himself between you and the guy so obviously irritated competition had shown up tonight.

* * *

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to take Dean back to your apartment and fuck him silly. Rip the buttons off his shirt before kneeling in front of him and opening his pants, pull out that thick, hard cock and let him know what he’d been missing for so long. Wrap your lips around him, glide your tongue down his length so you could hear that sexy moan that never failed to escape his lips as you let him hit the back of your throat. His hands would wind their way into your hair and hold your head close while he fucked your mouth.

And when he came hard and pulled out, breathing heavy and eyes wild as he stared down at you, mouth slightly agape when he realized you’d turned the tables and robbed him of his plan to make you come hard on his fingers and tongue before sliding his cock deep inside you, he’d lift you up, swoop you really, wrap your legs around his waist while he toed out of his boots and stepped his jeans all the way off before walking you to the couch because the bedroom was too damn far.

He’d kiss you deep and hard, hands firm on your ass while you groped at his neck, run a hand up the back of his head and feel the bristles of his recent cut. You’d grind your jeans against his belly, desperate for the fabric to be gone and he’d drop you gently to the sofa, pulling your shirt off as you raised your arms overhead. Then it would be his turn to kneel in front of you, popping the button, lowering the zipper, urging your hips up so he could grab hold of the waist band and pull your panties off with your jeans, flinging them to the side before he would spread your legs wide and dive right in, no teasing, no tongue up the inner thigh, no fingers pressing lightly, just a wide and firm tongue finding out how wet you already were for him.

He’d moan in that way that let you know how much he loved your taste, loved feeling your pussy lips against his tongue, loved teasing your clit and then he’d dip two fingers in, just the tips, just enough to get you squirming, begging for him really. He’d grin, but he’d fucking do it with his eyes, just grin right up at you cause he’d know you were coming undone for him and he’d know you were about to scream out his name because in about two seconds he’d push those fingers in all the way and curve them right into the spot you needed him to touch and you’d lose it right then and there, juices dripping and heat racing from your core.

And only when he felt like he’d gained some semblance of control over the situation, which only meant that after the first orgasm he’d keep licking and sucking and wouldn’t let you up until you came for him again because this is what he did – make you come – only then would he pull you up off the couch, bring you right up against him, run one hand up your spine and into your hair and hold you steady while he kissed you and deposited your slick into your own mouth and run the other down your lower back and squeeze your ass cheek.

Only then would he suggest you move to the bed where he could fuck you properly, like you deserved. He’d ask if you wanted to be on top, cause he loved to see you bounce while you lost control again, but his demeanor would get downright predatory when you climbed up on all fours and tossed a glance over your shoulder and told him you wanted him to fuck you hard from behind and make you come once more fast before flipping you over and slow grinding for what would feel like the rest of the night.

You’d wake tangled in the sheets and his limbs, his soft snore comforting and maddening all at once. Maddening because in about half an hour he’d wake too, to the smell of coffee and bacon and he’d eat the breakfast you made him and then he’d pull you into the shower to clean up, but end up fucking you against the shower wall until the water ran cold and you’d have to wait to wash your hair until later after the water tank heated back up. Maddening because after you pulled on an old Zeppelin shirt and pair of sweats, wet hair in a messy bun, Dean would kiss you and let you know he needed to get back to Sam and head off to the next case and man, was he glad you were back and he would hope you didn’t change your number again but if you did, he would ask you to be sure you let him know.

And then he’d be gone again and you’d be alone, crying in the shower when you meant to wash your hair but by the time the pain subsided the water would be cold again.

* * *

Fuck. That. Noise.

“Never left, actually. Dean, meet Joe. Joe ( _it’s Joe, right?_ ), Dean’s an old friend from way back. This is his brother, Sam.” Handshakes all around, only the air is thick and you can’t tell if Joe is nervous or threatened or what but it seems like he holds onto the shake with Dean a beat too long and it almost looks like Dean holds right back, firm.

“Buy you fellas a round?” Joe offers and heads to the bar when they nod, but Sam thinks better of it and follows him, leaving you alone with the one person you never wanted to be alone with again.

“So… never left?” Was that doubt in his voice, confusion?

“Look, it was getting hard…losing you every time. We were going nowhere.”

“So you just stopped taking my calls? What the hell is that?” Dean’s voice was raising.

“I just…”

“You just, what, Y/N? Just couldn’t do me the courtesy of an honest break?”

“ _Break?_ Break from what, Dean? We were nothing. You made that perfectly clear.”

“And you were good with that. I _thought we were friends_. With damn good benefits.”

“Right. ‘Cause all those times I asked you if you ever thought about something else, outside the life?”

“I thought you were just talking the way hunters sometimes do. I thought you were just wondering. And I always told you the truth.”

You sighed, exasperated. This was exactly what you wanted to avoid. The truth.

“And you never listened to what I was saying. What I was asking.”

“I’m not a fucking mind reader, Y/N. What were you asking? Maybe if you stopped beating around the bush once in a while.”

That stung. He’d accused you of dancing around issues before. It was one of the times he’d been brutally honest about what he could offer you in the beginning. And you had worked on the unfortunate flaw. You thought you had it under control, but obviously head on wasn’t your best side. But you had told him what you wanted. Once. Bluntly. And he’d talked you out of it, talked you out of coming with him on the road with Sam. Or so he obviously thought.

“Fuck you, Dean. You know I tried. You know what I wanted.”

“I know you think you wanted to come with me and I know you agreed when we both decided…”

“You decided. You decided, Dean. You said it wouldn’t be a good idea. You made that call.”

“And I’d make it again.”

“You don’t need to. I’m done waiting around for you. Was done months ago.”

“So what, you just shacking up with whatever comes along now?”

“I don’t need you judging my decisions, Dean. I don’t need you acting like my life isn’t short enough to be worth something more than waiting around for you to breeze through.”

“Your life is worth much more than that, Y/N.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what? Treat you like a friend? Like I care how you end up?”

“Make me want you all over again with the way you care. I can’t anymore, Dean. I really can’t. I want more. More that you can’t offer. So I’m done with this and I’m done with you.”

You were a little taken aback at the words that just came out of your mouth.

And Dean was too. So shocked he didn’t even protest as you turned and headed towards the bar, grabbed the extra shot from Sam and slammed it before taking Joe by the hand and exiting the bar.

You were going to be harder now. You were going to be bulletproof. Dean could come to town and look for you anytime he wanted but you weren’t biting. That’s what you told yourself anyway.


	2. Gimme a Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's POV: Reader is running from their long term, long distance FWB relationship and he isn't sure he wants to let her go.

I couldn’t let it go; couldn’t let _her_ go.

I knew from experience that she liked to have breakfast at the Dew Drop Inn after a one night stand. She’d make some excuse about needing to pick up medicine in town for her ailing mother as a way to get the guy out of her place early in the morning.

She did that to me our first time and I bought it, even though she seemed super into me and kinda acted like she wanted me to hang around. By the time I picked up Sam and headed to the diner for breakfast she was halfway through a stack of chocolate chip pancakes and the look on her face when she saw us walk through the door just as she stuffed a forkful in her mouth was priceless.

I gave her wide grin, let her know I meant no harm and she waved us over to her booth. Sam headed to the restroom to wash his hands after ordering some egg white omelet travesty. He figured we needed a tiny bit of time to sort it all out.

She said she was sorry, but she didn’t know how to offer to cook me breakfast without making it feel like she was asking me to move in and so she stuck with her usual MO. I said I understood, but wanted her to know I’d like breakfast in bed next time. Maybe I shouldn’t have made that joke. Maybe I should have left it at a one-time good time.

But she was so fucking good. Not just in bed, where I swear she could move her tongue in about a million directions all at once and it was all I could do to pull myself from her lips before I came in her mouth. And her taste, fuck, it was like nectar from the gods. When she came on my face I couldn’t get enough.

She claimed she had never done some of those things we did the first night. I thought they were pretty standard, but maybe she’d been picking the wrong guys. When I flipped her over and took her from behind, she gasped and then screamed my name like I’d never heard before and came crashing all around me in a heartbeat. Then she begged for it again.

But it wasn’t just the bedroom. After that first night, I tried to visit her whenever we were close. Always made it clear it wasn’t anything more than a good time. Maybe join her on a little research if she hit a snag. Every once in a while she came through with a final piece to our puzzle, too.

Because it wasn’t just the bedroom. She was whip smart and funny. Sassy as all get out and I liked it. Liked her. A Lot. But I told her, it was dangerous with me. With us. I couldn’t be responsible for Sam and myself and the whole damn world and have her on my shoulders too. She said she understood. At least I thought she did after the fourth time, when she almost broke down and begged me to take her with us.

When were done hashing it out, she agreed to stay put but to let me know how she was feeling and let me know if it ever got to be too much. She promised she’d let me know.

And now here I was hoping to God that John or Jeb or Joe or whoever from last night really was a one nighter, or at least a first timer. I thought I caught her ask his name when she introduced us and that gave me hope that she’d be digging into a stack of pancakes alone.

But she wasn’t.

It was French toast this morning.

“Hey, can I sit? Please?”

She gave me a small eye roll and sigh. “Suit yourself, but I kinda said what I had to say last night.”

I nodded at the server for a cup of coffee and ordered the special, then settled back and took a deep breath.

“Y/N. I don’t get it. I don’t understand what happened. I thought we were on the same page.”

“Dean, you and I haven’t been on the same page for a while. The fact you don’t know that speaks volumes.”

“You know I can’t…don’t want you in danger. You know the life I lead, the life we both lead doesn’t lend itself to forevers. You’re in it, too. How can you act like you don’t know?”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Fuck she was so angry. I had really no idea where it was coming from.

“How is that bullshit? You know what kind of danger Sam and I are in. You’ve heard the stories of the people who get close to us. You know what we are here to do.”

“It’s bullshit, Dean, because you go on and on and on and fucking _ON_ about free will and choices, yet you act like you don’t have one. You act like you are destined to be the ones to save us all. It’s no fucking wonder they thought you’d never turn Michael down. You have a serious God complex and what better way to get about as close to him as possible without being him.”

I was stunned, had no witty comeback for this one so she went on.

“You think you are stuck with the job you and Sam do? You think it can’t be any other way? Plenty of hunters live ordinary lives Dean. Plenty of us have children and families and settled down lives. You think you can’t have that? It’s only because you don’t fucking choose that.”

“This is the duty Sam and I have…”

“You do a bang up job of it, Dean. How many times have you two unleashed hell on the world? You think you are the only two cleaning it up? Let me tell you something. The bullshit was here long before Papa Winchester got involved and it’s gonna be here long after you and Sam finally bite it for good. You think this was really put here just for you two to have something to do with your idle time? You can make it easier on yourselves. You can choose to do less, or hell, nothing at all. You don’t think they’ll find some other hunter with Daddy issues to prey on and fuck around if you step down? I know you are good. I know you are the best. I also know there was a good and best before you.”

She took a breath as the waitress dropped off my plate and topped of my coffee. Then she stood.

“Enjoy your breakfast, Dean. If you ever get to the point where you can admit you are choosing to take on some of this responsibility, you give me a call. Because it will be right around that time when you realize I have a right to take on that responsibility, too. Until then, lose my number.”

And she was gone. Dropped a twenty on the table, which was way too much to cover French toast and coffee. I lost my appetite and dropped a ten to cover the rest of my plate and followed her out the door.

“Y/N, wait. Please.” She was walking fast toward her car and when she turned to see how close I was before opening the door I saw the tears. She only let me see those once before, when she begged me to take her with us.

I wanted to believe it was emotional blackmail back then, wanted to believe I could turn away from those tears and act like they never happened. But it hurt to see her in pain. So I stayed and we talked it out and when she agreed to stay put I kissed her, tenderly at first. Thought we’d just make out a little and maybe fall asleep in each other’s arms after the storm of the argument had worn us out but her lips burned on me. And her tongue wove its way deep into my mouth. She was urgent and she pushed me down on the couch and straddled me, ground her hips into mine and got me raging for her.

I had her shirt off in no time but I don’t have any idea how we got our pants down. She was unhooking her bra strap while she kissed me hard and I had a handful of ass, squeezing those cheeks with a need I couldn’t even begin to articulate.

I wanted to be inside her, but I wanted to taste her, wanted it all right then and there. Like she could read my mind she was all of the sudden up and off me, sat herself right on the back of the couch and spread her legs wide for me. I watched her touch herself for all of about 10 seconds, watched her fingers graze through her slick folds and right when she dipped her middle finger in I dove in after, twisting my tongue around her fingers. She kept ‘em there, fingers deep in her own cunt while I licked around the edges and nipped at her clit. I’d like to believe I had something to do with that orgasm, but I’m not sure. She was on fire.

When she calmed down, I carried her to the bedroom, laid her down, kissed her thighs, her waist, stomach. Found a path up the swell of her breast until I found her hardened nipple waiting for me to tug at it with my teeth, lick away the jolt of pain I gave her. My lips traced along her neck until I found her earlobe and sucked at it breathing hot in her ear and telling her how gorgeous she was, how fucking hot I was for her and how I was dying to get inside.

She twisted away and pulled a condom from her nightstand. Ever since the first time she was always sure to have some available in case I was out and she never let me in without one again. Which just added to how fucking smart she was and I loved that she was willing to take a risk and give me that ultimatum. The first time was a fluke; I never meant to go bare but that night was intense and we got carried away. When I came back the second time she reminded me what it would mean if she got pregnant.

It was fast that time. She was still hot from her anger and I guess the pain of realizing this might be all she could count on from me. I wanted to give her more. I really did. I just couldn’t.

So now I stopped her before she opened her car door and I reached for her hand. My relief when she didn’t pull away immediately was palpable.

“You don’t get to do this, Dean,” she exclaimed through the tears. “You don’t get to come back and try to offer me the same thing as before.”

“Who said I was only offering the same thing as before?”


	3. Steal Me Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean stops Reader before she gets all the way away, but will that last? Final part Inspired by 'Stole You Away' by Benjamin Francis Leftwich and 'No Right Angles' by Ben Lee

_So now I stopped her before she opened her car door and I reached for her hand. My relief when she didn’t pull away immediately was palpable._

_“You don’t get to do this, Dean,” she exclaimed through the tears. “You don’t get to come back and try to offer me the same thing as before.”_

_“Who said I was only offering the same thing as before?”_

* * *

 

“It can’t be because I’m crying in the parking lot right now.”

“What can’t be?”

“Dean, did you come to town to ask me to be something more this time? Or are you just out here because you don’t like that I made you face what’s been going on for far too long and you’re trying to be a hero again?”

Dean stopped and stared at you, but wouldn’t let go of your hand even as he dropped his head in apparent defeat.

“Fuck, Y/N. This isn’t fair.”

“What the hell is fair in this world Dean?” You took a deep breath, wiped away the tears that were already stilling, and tried to gather your thoughts one more time.

Dean had come after you immediately. Didn’t that count for something? You wanted it to. Except in your experience close enough only counted in horse shoes and hand grenades.

It wasn’t anywhere near close enough for you if Dean didn’t come on his own terms.

“Look, I was angry last night. Been angry for months now. But just now it’s dawned on me, I’m not angry at you so I want to do this over and do it right. I have been so mad at myself for falling completely and utterly head over heels for you. I have been angry that I waited too long to tell you how I felt, and then let you talk me out of it, and THEN let you keep coming back. You can’t really be blamed, Dean. I let my wants get pushed aside.”

“You think I pushed you to the side?” Dean asked, a hurt creeping into his voice that you didn’t expect.

“Not me, Dean, my wants, my desires. I know you think it’s better this way; that I’m somehow more protected away from you. But the fact of the matter, Dean, is that you like me. A lot. I’m not stupid and no matter how much you deny it, I know you want me as much as I want you.”

Dean dropped your hand and placed his own on the back of his neck, scratching uncomfortably as he kicked at some loose gravel in the lot.

“And it doesn’t matter how far or long you stay away. If someone, or something, wanted to get to you, it wouldn’t take much research to figure out who I am and what we are and then where would I be?”

Dean shot a look that let you know he always worried about exactly this.

“Because it wouldn’t matter even if we weren’t fucking. I’m part of your network, right?”

Suddenly Dean became aware of your trajectory and he tried to interrupt, to stop you from saying it out loud, but you just kept on. You had to get it all out, tell him everything you should have told him all those months ago when you first tried.

“So the way I see it, there’s never going to be a time in my life when I’m not in danger because of you. Unless…”

“Don’t say it, Y/N. Don’t say this.”

“Unless I’m out of your life for good.” Your heart felt the heaviest it had ever been, and the lightest at the same time. It was an ultimatum for sure, and Dean was probably someone who didn’t abide such demands. But there it was any way.

* * *

 

It had been three months since you laid it all on the line for Dean.

Once you told Dean you thought the only way you would be truly safe was to be out of his life, he had decided to speak up.

“Look, Y/N, you can’t throw this at me and not let me answer. And you don’t get to decide if my answer is ‘real enough’. I can’t help wanting to protect you, okay? I never want you hurt and I never wanted to be the one to hurt you.”

You had opened your mouth to speak again but Dean shut you down.

“Nope. My turn. You’ve done a hell of a lot of talking in the past 24 hours and you’ve given me exactly zero chance to respond.”

Dean had waited for you to interrupt again, but you knew deep down he was right. Even if you knew deep down what he was going to say.

“None of this is fair, Y/N. Not the way you blind-sided me last night and this morning and not the way you did it a year ago. I am a hunter, Y/N, and I’ve got a job to do. And I’ve lived my life with the knowledge that this, what goes on between us in those late hours of the night when I’m done fucking you and you’re done coming undone all around me, those times when you lay your head on my chest and I feel your breath slowing and you fall asleep against me, tucked up like you think I can keep you safe or the early mornings when you nuzzle my neck and whisper me awake and maybe climb back on for one last go before I have to leave, all of that, Y/N, is something I live with knowing shouldn’t be happening and it can’t keep going on.”

The tears were threatening to start again but you held them back. “You can keep me safe, Dean,” you whispered.

“It’s not like I don’t want to. I want to keep you safe. I want to hide you away and make sure nothing touches you ever. But I don’t think you want that end of the spectrum either and I don’t know how to find a middle ground.”

Dean had shifted closer to you out there in that parking lot, pressing you up against the door of your car, hand caressing your face, wiping away the tears that escaped.

“It’s not like I haven’t thought about this. It’s not like I didn’t let myself fantasize every once in a while what it would be like to have you in my bed every night, to wake up with you every morning, to make you coffee and read the paper, to watch you wash dishes in my t-shirt and nothin’ else and maybe slide up behind you, have you keep your hands in the soapy water while I slipped a hand between your bare legs and make you come for me. It’s not like I didn’t smile at the thought of a research war with you, even though I know you’d win because you are so smart, so brilliant. When you asked to come with me all those months ago I raged a silent battle through the pros and cons while you outlined all the reasons you needed it. And I was so close to saying yes, you have no idea how much I wanted to say yes. But the cons won, because I don’t know how to keep you safe.”

“You say you don’t want me to make a choice here based on what you’ve said this morning, but what if that’s just the push I needed to shake loose this last doubt of mine, the one that’s held me back for all those months? What if I said yes because I’ve always wanted to say yes and I’m afraid to lose you for good?”

“Dean,” you had been breathless and shaking as all of Dean’s words wove in and out of your head and you tried to make sense of everything he was saying.

“Please, Y/N, let me try. Let me try to make all that time up to you.”

“How?” you asked, not even sure you were ready for this. You had convinced yourself Dean would just take his out and run with it, but somehow he was standing here pouring his heart out to you in a gravel parking lot while carloads of families and couples came and went all around you.

In three months, Dean had made six trips back to you. He left Sam at the bunker every time and only showed when there were no cases on the horizon for either of you. You had cleared out a few drawers in your dresser and found a way to leave him space in your overstuffed medicine cabinet so he didn’t have to remember to pack a toothbrush or deodorant or a change of clothes anytime the mood struck to come see you.

You made him dinner each first night before taking him to your bed. Sometimes the air would be full of passion and Dean would toss you on the bed, climbing over you and kissing his way across every inch of skin as he peeled back each article of clothing. And when he had you naked and aching underneath him, he’d take you with all the passion built up during the days apart, lifting a leg over his shoulder as he fucked you into the mattress, your fingernails dragging across his back and spurring him on.

Sometimes, after dinner, he’d want to draw a bath and soak away the miles with you. You’d put lavender bath salts in the water because you’d discovered he liked to relax and he didn’t mind smelling like a flower if he knew he could wash with up with his regular soap before he headed back to the bunker however many hours or days later.

You’d slide in to the over-sized tub and lean back against his chest as he wrapped his legs around you and brought his soapy hands around to gently massage your belly, breasts, shoulders. When you’d both relaxed and you’d had about enough of not having him inside you, he’d step out of the tub and dry off with a fluffy towel while you pulled the chain to the stopper and let the water drain. The he’d help you step out of the tub too while he wrapped you in your own towel and carried you to the bed.

He’d lay you down and crawl in next to you, kissing your smooth skin as he ran his fingers along your thighs, nudging your legs apart so he could trace along your slit, dip a finger in to find the moisture building from hours of anticipation and then tease your clit while he let his tongue glide over your lips searching for a way in.

Lips locked, you’d hold him close by the neck while you reached down to stroke him until he was completely hard but he wouldn’t let you go until he’d fingered an orgasm out of you. When you came down, you’d reach for the nightstand and sometimes he’d take the packet from you, while other times he’d lay back and let you roll the condom down his length, watching your eyes as he brushed your hair back behind your ear.

You might climb on top of him and expect the pace to pick up, but Dean would want these times to last and he’d want you to know how much he loved you, needed you, wanted you. So he’d let you move slowly, up and down his shaft and he’d watch you in wonder as you traced your hands along your ribs, feeling the deliciousness of your own fingers on your skin and wrapping your hands around your breasts, your head falling back when you gently rubbed your own nipples.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, Dean would flip you over, but only so he could lean down and replace your hand with his own mouth against the curve of your breast while he continued to rock gently into you with motions designed to let you feel every slow inch of him moving in and out of your slick folds.

When he could feel you were close, or when you began to beg him for more, he’d pick up the pace and fuck you in earnest while you spread your legs wide and held onto your own knees for leverage, lifting your ass slightly to let him find that space inside you that would send you right over the edge with his name tumbling out of your mouth.

For three months, you and Dean had put your relationship on a front burner, taking time to talk on the phone as many nights as you could during those times apart. Dean had begun to open up even more and you were beginning to understand why he had been so reluctant to let you in. It wasn’t just about keeping you safe.

He really didn’t believe this life was something he was allowed to have. You made him promise to start believing in it.

Three months after agreeing to give this thing a fighting chance, which meant neither of you made time for anyone else even when you were apart (even though Dean finally admitted he’d stopped picking up women at bars about the same time he’d met you), Dean asked you to come back to the bunker with him.

And you agreed.


End file.
